The Pack
by Grand High Idol
Summary: When Mac and his family go to Lunar Lake for a visit, Bloo sneaks along for the ride. But Terrence is about to find trouble in the worst way possible...[Chapter 4 up, FINALLY]
1. Prologue

**PROLOGUE**

**Lunar Lake, Thirteen Colonies, October 1672.**

"Land ho!"

The captain's words rang out through the ship _Jonah_, causing quite a wave of excitement amongst the new immigrants boarded on the vessel. It had been a long journey, one full of disease, unfortunate deaths, and struggles, but at long last they had reached the beauty that was the Colonies—soon to be America over a century later. Many of the ship's passengers flocked to the deck to see the land that was to be their new residence for the remainder of their lives.

Amongst these passengers was young Richard Graves, a young man no older than sixteen. He dashed to the edge of the deck and leaned over the rail, the salty sea air ruffling his brown locks, and playing across his pale skin. He inhaled a deep breath of the sea atmosphere and sighed contently.

He had come over on the journey by himself, in order to discover the new world as he had read about in so many books in his homeland. He had done all he could do in his homeland, and now was set for new goals, new achievements—and he hoped that he could accomplish these in this New World of theirs. He grinned widely, although he refused to show the inside of his mouth—not in front of the passengers. Instead he leapt down from the deck and approached the captain.

"How long until we hit land, Sir?" he asked courteously, adjusting one of the buttons on his white shirt.

The captain turned to look at him, then looked back at the ever-growing horizon. "Fifteen minutes at the most, young Sir," he replied, smiling. "Think you can wait that long? You've been acting pretty odd ever since you boarded the ship."

Richard froze, then laughed it off. "Yes…I guess I was just so excited about exploring a new land," he replied, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "I'm hoping to prosper there, and I want to explore my new territory—I mean, _country_ as soon as possible." He smiled again innocently.

The captain merely smiled and nodded, as if understanding what the young man meant. Richard leapt down the stairs and ran toward the deck again, turning his head toward the horizon. His heartbeat increased anxiously with each passing moment, and as the land grew larger and larger in front of the ship, his hands began to grind on the wooden railing, causing several splinters to form in his palms. When the dock finally was in view and the captain barked the order to lower the plank, he leapt upward and rushed down to the docks, grinning wildly, not caring about shoving past the other people in his way.

He rushed up to the woods, lowering himself onto his hands and toes like a wild animal, kicking his boots off as he ran. He spotted a man in the woods, walking alone, completely unarmed—hermit, probably native to these woods. His lips drew back, revealing two rows of razor-sharp teeth, and he ran a thin, flat tongue over his lips, almost tasting the blood that this old man offered. Leaning back, still on all fours, he leapt into pursuit.

This was _his_ land now. _His_ new territory.

And he couldn't wait to get started.


	2. Escape To the Wild

**THE PACK**

**A Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends fic by Grand High Idol**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Foster's, nor any of its characters. The other characters and events of this story, however, are purely extracted from my own thoughts.**

**WARNING: This story contains traces of graphic violence, drug and alcohol abuse, an implied rape scene, extreme subject matter, and profanity. Viewer discretion is advised.**

**I.**

**PRESENT DAY

* * *

**

It starts with aggression; a hunger for power.

And then it goes from there.

Such phenomenon was hardly believable, even though it had been happening for centuries on end. Generation after generation, they never died out. They continued to live on, eyeing their victims, lusting for blood and sensuality. By the light of the moon, throats were torn out, victims were left ripped to shreds only to be discovered by the police the next morning. They blamed the situations on wild animals from the nearby forest—after all, it was a fairly secluded town, the town of Lunar Lake, and they knew as well as any inhabitant that the forest beyond the town possessed a variety of dangerous creatures. The most common victims were drunkards that had wandered too far from the town and into the woods, never to be seen. Some had disappeared, others had been found torn apart from throat to groin.

Then it stopped.

For awhile, anyway.

And the inhabitants assumed that it was safe, so they allowed their children out after dark, lifted the curfew, and allowed their dogs to romp around their yards.

Such was the situation of Ms. Haddenfold, an elderly woman whom had lived on her own for quite some time. The only thing that had kept her company all of her years was her dog, O'Malley, a rather tenacious Rottweiler breed that could care less for any of the other townsfolk. He had already bitten and drawn blood several times, but Haddenfold had kept it a secret for quite awhile, now. She would never give up O'Malley for the world, not until his dying day.

It was the beginning of June when it happened. Haddenfold was busy brewing a pot of honey tea to calm her nerves; she knew that the children of Lunar Lake would be out of school soon, and she was very prone to loud noises—the noise that the kids made notwithstanding. She had let O'Malley out at dusk to run around and to take care of "business", and had fallen asleep on her couch shortly after her cup of tea.

She was awakened by the sounds of growling and barking coming from outside her front porch door. At first she thought that O'Malley was in a fight with another dog—there were many strays that seemed to come and go—but as the noises grew more intense, she braced herself in her seat, listening to the horrendous racket going on outside.

She heard O'Malley's barking first, followed by a low growl that was not coming from her dog. She then heard a series of growlings, gnashings and barkings, so loud, so intense. She placed her hand on her breast as she finally heard a loud cry—the cry of an animal in pain—then, with a gargling yipping sound, the cries died out. A few ripping and tearing sounds were heard, followed by a few snuffles and growls, then everything was silent.

She didn't want to go outside. She really didn't. But she had to know what had happened out there, and whether or not O'Malley was all right. Shaking as she stood up, she walked over to the kitchen and withdrew a flashlight from one of the drawers, the object quivering in her hand as she started toward the front porch door. Grasping the knob, she flicked on the light and swung the door open.

She looked down. Traces of blood were on the steps, and the front door had several claw-scratches on it—almost as if something were desperately trying to get in. Below the stairs a trail of blood flattened the grass, ending somewhere near the bushes. She quaked in fear, but swallowed it and began to descend down the steps, keeping the flashlight locked on the trail.

Clutching her bathrobe tightly, she continued to follow the trail until she saw something on the ground. At first thinking that it was one of O'Malley's mangled chew-toys, she shone her flashlight on the object, then gave a silent scream of terror.

A bloodied foreleg.

A bloodied _dog's_ foreleg, with markings that she could easily recognize.

_Please, God, no_…she thought to herself, closing her eyes to let the wave of nausea sweep past her like a putrid breeze. It was over…they said that it was over…

Even though she was reluctant to see the rest, she continued to follow the trail until she approached the bushes. When she saw what lay before her, bloodied, disemboweled and partially eaten, she screamed—and this time it was anything but silent. Lights flickered on in the nearby houses, and several of the neighbors—still clad in their pajamas—rushed out to see what the problem was.

Haddenfold was now in hysterics as she rushed out into the road, her eyes wild and her face pale with fear. "O'Malley!" she screamed hysterically, as the neighbors stared, watching. "It got O'Malley! Oh my _GOD_…!"

From a house down the road, a young boy with dirty-blond hair quickly leapt from his window, landing in the bushes, then ran toward the house adjacent to him, climbing the ivy trellis to the window above it. Using one hand to hold himself steady, he rapped on the window with the other.

There was a moment of silence, then a dark-haired boy, about the same age, answered the call, opening the window to allow the blonde to crawl in. "God, what is it _this_ time?" he asked, rubbing his eyes. "I was asleep until you started banging on the damn window."

The blonde seemed excited. "They've returned," he said, his eyes wide. "O'Malley is now officially dog-chow. Couldn't you hear Ms. Haddenfold out there? She's yellin' like the dickens."

"What?" The dark-haired boy was suddenly awake now. He took a seat on his mattress. "But I thought that they'd left—migrated, if you wanna say that."

"I thought so, too," the blonde told him, "but it was only for a season. Now they've come back to Lunar Lake to raise some Hell. Their first token of the night was O'Malley." He thought a moment. "I know that not too many people liked O'Malley, but…still…"

"'But still' what?" the dark-haired boy asked, folding his arms.

"…I'm trying to say that they don't usually prey on small game, like dogs. Human flesh it what they crave…human blood is what they drink." He raised his head up toward the dark-haired boy. "I'm going to bet you my butt that it was Rodney who did that."

"Rodney?" The dark-haired boy blinked in confusion. "How can you be sure?"

"They've been wanting to get rid of Rodney ever since the last time they came here. To them, Rodney is obsolete and therefore needs a purpose. They probably sent him out to take care of that warning message…and probably something else."

"Like what?"

"Well…" He thought a moment. "I know what their motive is, and summer is usually the time when people from the urban and suburban towns come here for rest and relaxation. They're probably going to find another teen and add him to their group, and use Rodney to do it."

"But why Rodney?"

"What did I say earlier?" The blonde's eyes narrowed, then he lowered his head and slowly shook it.

"It's going to be a dark summer for Lunar Lake," he murmured softly. "I can sense it…"

* * *

"Terrence, stop!"

Mac ran as fast as his legs would carry him as he leapt over the couch, his older brother in hot pursuit. Being larger and stronger, Terrence easily cleared the couch and tackled Mac to the ground. The two siblings tumbled over one another until they finally hit the television set, causing the wall to vibrate and several precious items to quiver in their places.

Now with the little boy firmly in his grasp, the older boy began noogying Mac—rather hard, at that; the boy could feel it down to his skull. He tried to gasp out for him to stop, but that only resulted in Terrence squeezing him tighter. He was just about to attempt to free himself when there was a click of the lock, and the door opened.

The boys' mother looked down on them with a disgruntled expression. "Fighting again, I see," she sighed, walking over to the kitchen in order to set the groceries down. She heaved a deep breath. "I honestly thought that with Bloo gone, you two would settle down."

"Guess you were wrong," Mac muttered under his breath, coldly; Terrence released his hold on him and sprang up onto the couch.

"Aw, come on, Mom," he responded innocently. "We were just playing."

"If by 'playing' you mean 'suffocating me', you've hit that nail on the head," Mac snapped in response. Terrence growled at him angrily and hiked up his shirtsleeve, causing the little boy to fall silent; the angry look on his face still existed.

The boys' mom heaved another deep sigh, then ran her hand through her hair. "Perhaps I'm looking at this from the wrong angle," she said to herself. "Perhaps you two are only acting this way because you've been pent up in this apartment for so long."

"School let out like, a week ago," Terrence said, nodding. "It's frikking _boring_ here, okay? What am I _supposed_ to do, lock myself in my room and try not to have a damned heatstroke!"

"Terrence Kraigen!" Their mother slammed a fist on the table angrily. "You know very well I don't like that language in this house!"

Terrence rolled his eyes. "Sor-ree," he muttered sarcastically; he then flopped over onto the couch and placed the pillow over his head. Mac approached his mother with light caution, then gently tugged on her skirt.

His mother sighed and turned down to look at him. "What is it, Mac?" she asked.

"Mom, maybe what you said was right," the little boy replied, trying to straighten his hair where Terrence had mussed it up. "We _have_ been pent up in this apartment a really long time. Maybe…" His eye caught a magazine lying down near the front door, he rushed over, picked it up, and ran back, slipping it up on the table. "Maybe what we need is a vacation. I remember that you rented that cabin out in this vacation spot about fifteen years ago, when you and Dad…well…" He shuffled one foot across the floor and hung his head, blushing slightly. "You know."

His mother eyed the picture, and a smile played on her lips. "Ah, yes, Lunar Lake," she sighed, hugging the magazine to her chest. "I remember back in '90…it was one of the most romantic vacation spots there were." She looked down at Mac. "Perhaps you're right, Mac…perhaps we should go back to the cabin at Lunar Lake for the summer; get some fresh air and open space for you and Terrence." She placed her hand to her mouth. "But oh, how dusty it must be after ten years of abandonment…!"

"It won't be a problem, Mom," Mac replied, giving her a quick hug. "I'll fix up everything." His eyes glittered with excitement as he asked, "When can we go?"

"Well, it'll take me awhile to find the keys amongst all my files, and we still need to pack for the evening, so we can leave tomorrow afternoon, I'm estimating." She checked her watch. "You boys had best start packing…we _are_ spending the entire summer there, after all."

"What!" Terrence exclaimed in disbelief, tossing the pillow off of his head and flipping over as their mother quickly hurried down the hallway to her room in order to retrieve the keys—and her belongings. "Don't tell me that we're going to be down by some cruddy lake for the entire summer!"

"Come on, Terrence, it'll be fun," Mac replied smugly, crossing his arms. "Besides, they probably have just your type of crowd down there."

"Pfft! And what might _that_ be?" the ravened-haired boy snorted.

Mac's smile broadened. "Hicks."

"Oh, you son of a—" Terrence began, but Mac had already run for the door. Growling, he slumped down against the couch back, fury still tingling in his spine and the desire to hurt Mac still fresh in his mind. Never matter, he thought, the kid would be back. And when he _did_ come back, he was going to get the beating of a lifetime for that petty little insult…

* * *

"Mac!"

"Hey Bloo!" Mac rushed up to give his friend a hug. "Guess what?"

"What? You found a new world record to try out? You got me some candy? You found another crazy girlfriend that we can play with!"

Mac folded his arms. "Bloo, I already told you, she _wasn't_ my girlfriend," he replied firmly; his features then broadened with excitement again. "I'm going on a vacation!"

"A vacation? No way!" Bloo exclaimed. "So, where you going? Europe? Mexico? An abandoned city that no one has ever seen before in their _life_?"

"No…ah…actually, I'm just going out of town." He rubbed his sleeve in slight embarrassment as they reached the lounge. "You know…out to Lunar Lake. Mom already has arrangements made and everything."

"Lunar Lake?" a voice repeated, and soon enough Eduardo's monstrous head loomed over the back of the couch. "But isn't that the place where the killer, he go crazy and he kill everyone, and es scary, and no one make it out ALIVE?" He trembled in his seat. "Don't go, Senor Mac, please don't go!" He pleaded, tears brimming in his eyes.

"Co, co co co coco," Coco's voice responded from the other side of the couch.

"Yeah, Ed, that was _Crystal_ Lake," Wilt's voice repeated. "And besides, you know, that movie was all make-believe anyway. There really aren't zombie serial killers like that, you know."

"Yeah, Ed," Mac agreed, nodding. "Lunar Lake is just an out-of-town country-woodland place. My mom has a cabin there."

"Oh." Eduardo sank back down into his seat, his eyes shifting from Mac to Coco to Wilt. "I…I know that."

"So, how long will you be gone?" Bloo asked, taking a seat on the couch; Mac crawled up next to him. "I gotta let Frankie and Mr. H know so that they can make arrangements and all that fancy stuff."

Mac chewed his lower lip. "Um…all summer," he replied slowly.

Bloo's mouth dropped open in alarm. "All summer? Without _me_?" Mac slowly nodded his head. "But Maaaaaac, I'm your bestest _best_ friend ever! Didn't we agree on that a long time ago?"

"I know, Bloo, but if you came with us my mom would flip!" Mac explained. "Besides, everything's already been planned out; we're leaving tomorrow afternoon, maybe even earlier than that."

"But who's gonna stay here and play with me?" Bloo asked helplessly; Mac sighed and slipped down from the couch.

"I don't know," the little boy responded. "I'm sorry I can't take you. Just…just be good while I'm gone, okay? Don't cause any more pipe leaks or gas explosions or anything like that."

"Mac, wait!" Bloo exclaimed, but Mac was already out the door. Heaving a deep sigh, the blue blob sank down onto the couch, his mouth trembling, a sad expression on his face. Wilt frowned as well, then patted him on the back.

"It's okay, buddy," he consoled, sighing. "I'm sure that Mac will write you every month—maybe every week, even. And when he comes back, I'm sure that you'll have a great time, you wait and see."

"Wait and see?" Bloo repeated angrily, leaping off the couch. He faced the three other Friends, his arms folded and an expression of determination set upon his face. "Blooregard Q. Kazoo _never_ 'waits and sees'. I'm going with Mac, no matter _what_." He slammed a blobby fist into his other hand.

"I'm sorry, but how are you gonna do that?" Wilt asked, shrugging in utter confusion. "You heard what Mac said—if his mom finds out you're there, she'll go nuts!"

Bloo smiled, then rubbed his hands together. "Well then, I'll just have to be extra _sneaky_," he replied, a coy expression creeping up across his features…

* * *

"Mom, I'm ready to go!" Mac called from the front door, tightly holding his suitcase in one hand, his backpack hung over one shoulder. "Are you and Terrence done packing yet?"

"I'm almost ready, dear," the boys' mother called from her bedroom, "I just need to find my pager and I'll be all set."

"Mom, we're going on vacation to _relax_, remember?" the little boy responded, folding his arms. "I don't see why you need to bring all your work stuff along with you. I'm sure that someone at the bank will be happy to fill your position."

"I know, I know." She laughed. "But you can never be too careful. They might need to contact me in case of an emergency, which is why I'm bringing my pager, cellphone, and laptop. I'm sure that you'll find plenty to do up there, either way. It's a wonderful place."

She shut her suitcase, then looked around the room. "Mac…where's your brother? We're going to be late if he doesn't hurry up."

"He locked himself in his room," Mac responded, jabbing a finger in the direction of the hallway. "I don't know why he isn't enthusiastic about going. Lunar Lake sounds like a great place!"

Mac's mother's smile faded, and she heaved a deep sigh. "I think I know why," she said quietly; she then turned to face her younger son. "Mac, be a dear and start up the car. I'll talk to Terrence."

She tossed him the car keys, then turned and headed toward the direction of Terrence's room. Leaning against the wall, she rapped on the door with one finger. "Terrence?"

"Fuck off."

"Terrence Kraigen, I already told you that I do _not_ tolerate that language, young man!" The boys' mother stood stiff, firm. "Now open the door this instant!"

Mac decided it was best to leave while he still could, and quickly swung his backpack over his shoulder to hurry down to the apartment lot. After some time, the lock finally clicked and the boys' mother opened the door.

Terrence was seated at the edge of the bed, glaring down at the carpet and holding a pillow tightly against his chest. An angry expression was set upon his features, but she knew what he was _really_ thinking. Sighing, she walked over and sat next to him.

"Terrence, honey…" she began, but Terrence brushed her off.

"How _dare_ you," he growled, leering in her direction. "How _dare_ you make me go back there! After Dad died? You think I'm going to _tolerate_ that!"

"Terrence, I know that you share some fond memories of that place with your father, but he's gone now." Terrence's anger faded, and he stared down at the floor, his mouth wavering slightly. "And we all have to get over that. It was five years ago that he died and nothing in this world is going to bring him back." She ran her fingers through his ebony hair. "You have to learn to let go."

The young teen sniffed slightly, then knocked his mother's hand away before getting to his feet, his arms crossed angrily. "Can't I—" his voice broke; he shivered slightly before beginning again: "Can't I spend the summer at Rusty's house? He and I were planning to—"

"No, Terrence. My mind's made up." She rose to her feet. "I know that Rusty is your best friend, but you are _not_ spending the summer in a stingy foster home."

Terrence growled at her again, eyes flashing in anger, then yanked his suitcase out from underneath all of the clutter in his closet. "Fine, _Mom_," he snapped, an obvious trace of anger still in his voice, "Have it your way. But I _refuse_ to change my attitude out there. You hear me? I _refuse_."

"Very well," she heaved, placing her hands upon her waist, "but you're only bringing this down on yourself. Until you learn that your father won't come back, you'll be in your own private prison forever more." And with that, she left.

_Shame tactic_, he thought to himself as he tossed an extra overjacket inside his suitcase. _Nice one, bitch_…

* * *

"Mac!"

The little boy looked up and smiled as a familiar figure dashed toward the car, whisked him up and began noogying him playfully. "How's my little fearless zombie-fighter doin'?"

Mac laughed. "Rusty, stop!" he exclaimed, still giggling as the teenager set him down on the ground. Whisking a hand up to brush a strand of dirty-blond hair behind his ear, he looked down at the little boy, smiling, before leaning against the car.

"So, what's going on?" he asked, rapping at the car windshield. "You guys going on a trip or something?"

Mac nodded, then moved around the car to the trunk. "I'm afraid so," he replied, tossing his bag in without getting a further look at what was inside before shutting it, "And we'll be gone all summer. Terrence included." He smiled weakly. "I know how much he wanted to spend the summer with you…he'll miss you, all right."

The normally carefree teenager frowned. "Oh…" he removed himself from against the car and sighed deeply. "I would tag along, but…you know…" He looked around, then whispered softly, "Duty never takes a vacation."

Mac nodded in agreement; he knew Rusty's dirty little secret and he wasn't about to tell it to the world. "I know," he replied. He looked up just in time to see his mother, along with Terrence, walk out. "Uh-oh. Mom's coming. You'd better split."

The blonde nodded. "Will you at least tell Terrence where I am?" he asked. "I…uh, I want to say goodbye to him for a sec."

Mac smiled broadly, knowing what he was getting at, then nodded. "I'll let him know." He turned around just as his mother and brother approached. "Hi, Mom!"

"Hello, Mac," she said, smiling. Her gaze traveled to the blonde, and her features faded a bit. "And…hello, Rusty." Rusty waved back cheerfully, then grinned weakly.

"Guess it's too late to split, huh?" he said, to Mac in particular. "Ah, well, I should just be on my way…but, ah…Mrs. Kraigen?"

"What?"

"May I…say goodbye to Terrence? You know, in…like, private?"

Mac's mother pondered for a moment, unsure of what to do—she had never been fond of Rusty, mainly because she felt he was keeping something from her—something dangerous. And indeed he was, but he knew when and when not to use it; that was what she didn't know. Finally, she shook her head.

"Fine," she replied. "But don't stray too far, okay? We have to be in the car in a minute or less."

"Thanks!" Rusty exclaimed; he then ran off toward the back of the lot, motioning for Terrence to follow. The raven-haired teen obediently followed, and, once they were alone in the lot, Rusty drew the young teen into his arms for a quick kiss. It wasn't a long-lasting liplock; they broke away after about five seconds, even though they still kept their arms on each other's bodies.

"God, I'm gonna miss you," Rusty sighed. He looked out toward the forest. "Damn things just don't know _when_ to stop, especially in the summertime over here. Just their climate."

"Yeah, I was hoping I could help," Terrence replied, snuggling against Rusty's jacket. "My mom is such a frigging bitch…"

"Hey, at least you _have_ one." Rusty frowned. "Bitch or not, I'd give _anything_ for a mother like yours. I've been at that foster home for fifteen, almost sixteen years now, and no one's bothered to adopt me."

"I like you that way." Terrence grinned coyly. "Promise not to eye anyone else while I'm away?"

"Promise," Rusty replied, grinning back.

"Terrence! Get in the car! We're leaving!"

Mac's voice echoed through the lot as Terrence sighed, then pulled away from Rusty, frowning. "Well, that's the bus," he sighed, turning around. "I'd better get going."

"I'll see you in the fall!" Rusty called after him, waving, as the teen ran toward the car. "At _high school_! _Go Jackson Mules…_!"

* * *

"Well, this is it."

Mac's mother sighed in content as she eyed the cabin that she had begun her first honeymoon in, way back in 1990. It was a nice cabin; one of those two-story deals with a large picture window and a fireplace. The roof was tinted green, and there were both steps and a ramp leading up to the entrance. Off to the side was a glass sliding door, which led out onto the porch.

And all this in the middle of the woods—although town was only about a five-minute walk away. Terrence eyed the cabin sadly, remembering when he and Dad had gone fishing out on the lake when he was three. They had worked together to catch the biggest of big catfish, and it was even displayed in the bar nearby…he sniffed a little but refused to open up to his emotions.

Mac was amazed. "Wow!" he exclaimed, running up toward the cabin. He ascended the steps. "This is the most amazing house _ever_! No wonder you're always working to pay for it!"

Mac's mother nodded, smiling. "There are three separate bedrooms, as well," she told him. "You boys will each get a room of your own, and I'll get a room of my own—just like at home."

"Only we've got a fireplace! And taxidermy animals! And an actual gas stove! And everything's made of _wood_!" Mac said excitedly, jumping up and down. "Oh, please please PLEASE can we go inside!"

Mac's mother laughed, then placed a hand on his forehead, trying to calm him down. "Of course we can, honey," she replied, "But first let's get organized. I'm going to trail the woods looking for any signs that we should lock our doors. Terrence, sweetie, you go into town and try and make some new friends, okay, please?" Terrence rolled his eyes and began his walk down the path into town. "Mac, while we're busy, you can unpack the bags and bring them inside the house. The house-key should be under the welcome mat where I always kept it."

"Okay, Mom!" Mac called to her as she wandered into the woods. Running up to the front seat, he quickly yanked the car keys out of the steering wheel lock and ran to the trunk. He fiddled around with the keys in his excitement before he finally located the right key, stuck it in the lock, and twisted.

The trunk popped open, revealing luggage—and something—or in this case some_one_—else. Mac's mouth dropped open as he stared at the thing that was lounging on top of the bags, playing around with his mother's calculator.

"Oh, hey Mac!" Bloo called to him, waving; Mac's expression refused to change. The blob continued to tap on the calculator. "Man, this is the worst videogame ever."


	3. Some New Friends

**1672.**

Lying on his belly amongst a mess of carnage, Richard Graves licked his lips and picked what was left of the hermit out of his teeth. It was a satisfying kill—he had enjoyed the look of fear on the man's face right before he went down—but there wasn't much meat on the bones, which had been disappointing; he had wanted so much more. After picking the skeleton clean, what else was there to do? Chase a deer?

He didn't think so.

Grinning smugly, he looked down the hill, toward the town of Lunar Lake. All those people. All those wonderful people, just right for the picking. The elders he would devour. The children he would bless with uncanny powers and senses. And the men and women he would deal with himself, seeking out the best and killing off the worst. In time, he'd have his own little organization…and who was going to stop him?

He threw back his head and laughed, then quickly came back to his senses. Looking down at his shirt, he sighed in annoyance and shook his head.

"Oh, Lord, my best shirt," he sighed angrily, throwing his hands to the ground. "And I still have yet to meet with the governor…!"

* * *

**THE PACK**

**By Grand High Idol**

**II.**

Mac looked around to make sure that everyone else was out of earshot before raising the trunk higher. "Bloo, what are you _doing _here?" he hissed through clenched teeth. "I thought I told you not to come along with us!"

"Oh, come on, Mac, you honestly didn't expect me to stay in that boring old house all summer without my best friend, did you?" Bloo replied, shrugging. He continued to tap at the calculator. "Man, this game is boring. Where does your mom get her games, anyway? Office Max?"

"That's a calculator, Bloo," Mac replied, folding his arms. "It's used for doing math."

"Math!" Bloo immediately flung the calculator over to the other side of the trunk. "Aah! Unclean! So _unclean_!" He spat on his blobby hands and began rubbing them together to rid himself of the "uncleanliness" that the calculator had placed upon him. "You know, you could've _warned_ me!"

Mac sighed, then began throwing the baggage out from the trunk and setting it on the ground. "Listen, Bloo, I don't know _how_ you managed to do it, but it looks like you're stuck with us for the summer. But I want you to keep _out of sight_, you hear me? _Completely_ out of sight."

"You worry too much." Bloo swung himself over the side of the trunk, landing on the ground in front of Mac. "Did you bring any trail mix with you? I was starving the entire time I was in that trunk."

Mac rummaged through one of the coolers and pulled out a half-eaten ice-cream bar. "No kidding," he exclaimed, a disgusted look on his features. He set the thing down before facing Bloo again. "I'm serious, Bloo. If Mom finds out that you're here—"

"Mac?"

"Oh, geez!" Mac immediately pushed Bloo to the ground, then shoved him underneath the car, despite the little blue blob's protests, as Mac's mother approached. She stopped near the trunk.

"Mac, how's that unpacking coming? Do you need any help, honey?"

"Um…yeah, yeah, I _could_ use some help, come to think of it," he replied innocently, placing his hands behind his back. His gaze wandered for a few moments before turning back to face his mother. "So, did you find anything interesting out in the woods?"

The boys' mother sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. "I saw tracks out near the creek," she reported. "Large tracks. I don't think that I'll allow either you or Terrence to go out after dark without supervision."

"What?" Mac was aghast. "But…Mom…_why_?"

"Wolves," was all the boys' mother could reply. "Big ones, judging from their tracks. I know that they're mostly harmless, but I haven't seen much wildlife around here. They could start preying on small children like you, dear."

"What makes you think wolves will attack humans?" Mac asked. "They don't do that. It's not in their nature at all…"

"Just to be safe." Mac's mother reached out and patted her son on the head, then reached down to pick up her briefcases. "Now, come on, let's move this stuff into the house before your brother gets back."

* * *

"This blows."

Terrence kicked a stray pebble as he looked at the small town around him. Sure, it had a gas station, drugstore, all the essentials—but not nearly as big, nor homey, as the ones back home. He wasn't even sure that he wanted to go into the drugstore, after what happened with his dad…he sighed. That catfish was probably _still_ hanging on the walls as a trophy of he and his father's success that day…

And yes, there were other teenagers around the area, but they weren't city-slickers; they lacked his style and way of life, and he didn't want to adapt to theirs—he didn't care if he had to live with them all summer; heck, he didn't even care if he never talked to them. He'd rather spend his summer in exile than with this bunch of hicks. Huffing at their mere presence, he lowered his head and turned around to go back down the path.

That was when something big, heavy, and soft slammed into him, sending him into the dust and knocking the wind out of his lungs. Coughing, both to catch his breath and from the dust clouds surrounding him, he looked over to see who the wise-ass was—and his expression immediately brightened.

It was another teenager—and this one appeared to be just his style. Clad in a denim jacket, jeans, and combat boots—which appeared very strange compared to the rest of his outfit—the teen, a male in his early years, turned around to face him. He had dark hair and blue eyes, and his face sported a serious mass of freckles. Biting his lip, he immediately raced over to help the raven-haired teenager up.

"Oh, dear God," he exclaimed, taking Terrence's wrist—which seemed so small compared to his own—and helping him to his feet rather forcefully. "I am _so_ sorry. You see, my friends and I—we were playing Frisbee out near the lake and—well—I guess I—"

"It's no problem, really," Terrence replied, brushing the dust off of his plaid overjacket. "I get that a lot." He looked at the teenager thoughtfully. "So, where did you come from? You don't look like someone to be hanging around in a town of hicks like this." He cast a disapproving leer at the locals before returning his gaze to the other boy.

The other teen smiled, revealing a row of braces aligned along his top teeth. "Name's Rodney," he replied, extending a hand. "Rodney White. I've been a member of this little community for quite a few years, actually."

Terrence placed his dainty hand in Rodney's large and beefy one and shook it. "Name's Terrence Kraigen," the raven-haired teen replied, "and it's nice to finally meet someone who appreciates my tastes." He looked toward the direction of the lake. "Who did you say you were playing Frisbee with, again…?"

"Um—it's nothing you'd be interested in," Rodney replied, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "So…uh…you wanna grab a soda at the local diner? I'll buy."

Terrence grinned mildly. "Sure," he replied, flushing slightly. "That is…ah…if you don't mind."

"Not at all, not at all," Rodney replied, a coy grin creeping up across his features. "As a matter of fact, I think that you might _really enjoy_ getting to know the people around here."

* * *

"Well, that's the last of it," Mac's mother said, dusting off the vase on the table and filling it with flowers she had picked from near the creek. She looked around. "Oh, Mac, honey, doesn't it look _wonderful_? Just like when your father and I had our first honeymoon…" She sighed, remembering those wonderful moments the two of them had shared before his passing.

Mac looked around, and then nodded. "It _does_ look nice, Mom," he agreed, then quickly looked around some more. Where the hell was Bloo…?

"Mom, I'm going to go check outside…see if we left anything important in the trunk," Mac told his mother, racing for the door. "I'll be right back, okay?"

"Okay, honey," Mac's mother replied, "Just don't be too long. And hurry. The local news said that it's going to get dark at eight thirty tonight."

"Got it!" Mac cried as he raced outside the door. He then descended the ramp and raced for the car, nearly smashing into it in the process, and looked underneath. Bloo, who had been residing under there the entire time, slowly crawled out, covered in dirt and oil stains and all-in-all not in a pleasant mood. He glared at Mac as he desperately tried to clean himself off.

"Thanks a lot," he glowered, attempting to wipe himself off on one of the spare tarps that were kept in the trunk. "Some friend _you_ are. What was the deal with shoving me under there like that?"

"Listen, Bloo, I'm _really_ sorry about that, but if Mom saw you with me, she'd completely blow her top." Mac walked over to aid cleaning Bloo off. "We _have_ to keep you a secret the entire time we spend here. You can sleep with me, in my room—just no messing it up, no drawing on the windows, and _no_ funny business. Got it?"

"Aw, man!" Bloo exclaimed, his head drooping slightly. "Now I'll _never_ get to have any fun."

Mac pondered for a few moments, then smiled. "Bloo…I said that you couldn't be seen with me in front of my _mom_, but I never said that you couldn't be seen with me in _town_." He placed his hands on his best friends' shoulders. "Listen, you're dirty, and you hate baths. It's a nice warm day. How about a quick swim in the lake before we do anything else?"

Bloo's mood immediately brightened. "Yeah!" he exclaimed. "Let's do it!"

"Mom!" Mac called out, shoving Bloo behind his back. "We're—I mean, _I'm _gonna go swimming!"

"All right!" the boys' mom called from the window, "but remember to be back before dark! Remember what I told you!"

"I will, Mom, thanks!" Mac called out. He then smiled, threw off his shirt, sweater, shoes, and socks, and began running toward the direction of town, Bloo bounding after him. Since it was only a five-minute walk, the two reached the town and passed the diner at about the same time that Terrence and Rodney went in to get a soda.

The two teenagers walked into the diner—and Terrence suddenly felt as if he were in a time-warp. The place was old, no doubt about that, and the checker-patterned floor, jukebox, circular bar-stools, and black-and-white photos of Lunar Lake's events of the past made it even moreso. The place was filled with other teens wearing country-style clothes, something he'd expect to find at a Sadie Hawkins Dance, but nowhere else. He sighed, shying away a few steps, but Rodney grabbed his hand.

"Don't be afraid," he said. "These people are plenty nice once you get to know them."

"I'm _not_ afraid!" Terrence snapped, wrenching his hand out of Rodney's grasp. "It's just…well…" He chewed his lower lip and looked around the diner, at the residents. "I don't know how to…uh…_mingle_ with people like these."

"You don't have to." Rodney pointed to a seat in the back, a circular booth where five different teenagers, each clad in modern city clothing, were currently seated. "_We're_ sitting over _there_."

Terrence still felt a heavy feeling in his chest, a feeling of possible rejection, as they approached the booth. Rodney immediately took his seat next to an African-American boy, who looked around sixteen years old and clad in New-York City basketball clothing, and Terrence took his next to Rodney.

The young teen observed the teenagers seated at the table around him. There was only one female in the group—a dark-haired, Gothic-style beauty with long hair and black lipstick, sporting a black tank-top and a matching skirt and fishnets. Her ears were pierced in three places, and she had a massive amount of dark eyeliner around her eyes, making her look zombified. The others were a red-haired boy in a typical jogging uniform that seemed very upbeat, a blonde that was missing a tooth, the African-American boy and Rodney, of course, and the last one…the last one was the most compelling to him.

This teenager—probably seventeen or eighteen, judging from his looks—had medium-length silvery-blonde hair, dyed to look that way, no doubt. A dark gray bandana was tied around his head, fluffing his bangs, and he sported a T-shirt of a matching color. He wore a dark leather jacket, ripped jeans, dark black boots, and a necklace around his throat that sported a tooth of some sort, encased in what appeared to be sterling silver. He had shades perched on the tip of his nose, and he lowered them, giving Terrence a view of his eyes—which were sky blue and cold as ice—which burned into his gray ones like a white-hot iron. There were a couple moments of silence before the teenager finally decided to speak.

"Well," he said, finally; his voice was like a deep, dark hole, yet strangely spunky, in a macabre sort of way. He coolly removed his shades with a flick of his wrist. "What have we here, Rodney?"

"New kid," Rodney replied, clapping a hand down on Terrence's shoulder. "Thought I'd introduce him to you guys. This might just be a guess, but I'm guessing that the kid's new here and doesn't have anyone to chill with."

"Oh, isn't that a _shame_." The silvery-haired boy frowned, then looked around at the others. "Did you hear that? This poor little boy has no one to play with."

"Don't you _dare_ mock me, you sick fuck," Terrence growled, gritting his fingernails on the table, "Or you'll end up with those shades shoved up your _freakin'_ ass."

The teen smiled at that remark, then flicked the shades on top of the dining booth. "I like your style," he said, nodding. "I can sense your anger, your _rage,_ toward the ones around you. Very vicious, very contrite…very…" He ran his tongue over his lips. "_Tenacious_."

Terrence didn't know what those words meant, but he was positive that they were words of praise. "Um…thanks," he said, lowering his head slightly in embarrassment.

"We don't get enough people like you around here at Lunar Lake," the teen informed him, crossing his arms over the countertop, "and we could really use someone like you in our team." He nodded toward the others, then looked back at Terrence. "So, what's your name, time-bomb?"

"Uh…Terrence Kraigen," he replied, secretly wringing his overjacket between his hands underneath the booth. "I'm on here for vacation…I didn't want to come, but my _bitch_ of a mother made me."

"Bitch, haha!" The redhead exclaimed, clasping his hands together. "Brilliant!"

"Shut it, Gary!" The mysterious teen slipped his shades back on, and then sat up straight. "And, speaking of which, where _are_ my manners? We've been talking all this time and I haven't introduced myself or my fellow teammates yet." He gestured toward the teen sitting next to Terrence. "I'm sure that you've already met Rodney…" He pointed to the African-American boy sitting next to him. "That's Corey—top of the league in the basketball team at school and also a _very_ good swimmer…"

"'Sup," Corey proclaimed, waving a hand at Terrence.

He then gestured toward the blonde. "This is Paul, our resident football jock…even though he doesn't look like it, he packs _quite_ the wallop."

"Hi," Paul said, grinning and once again showing Terrence his missing tooth, for once making the young teen glad that he _had_ all his teeth, even if they _were_ crooked…

"…This is Theo, our beauty chick and resident Goth—"

"I'm _not_ a Goth!" Theo shouted, placing both her hands on the table. "I'm _expressive_, you twits! Can't you get that through your thick friggin' heads!"

"Of course you are, sweetie." The teen pointed toward the redhead; the one at whom he had snapped at earlier. "This is Gary, and…well, he's kind of strange. Loves rolling around in dirt and leaves, then jumping in the lake with all his clothes on."

"It's a hobby." Gary grinned, showing a small gap between his front teeth, which caused Terrence to blush. _He's kinda hot_, the young teenager thought to himself, but quickly shook it off. He had made a promise to Rusty that he was _not_ going to eyeball any other guys, and he was determined to keep that promise.

"…And finally, I'm Rick. Rick Gray." The teen placed both hands on his chest, gesturing to himself as he said this. "I'm the leader of this group. I decide what we should do, when we should do it. And, of course, I _always_ take my other teammates' needs into my own hands when needed." He glanced at the others, then looked back at Terrence. "So, what do you think? Do you want to join our little group, if only for the summer?"

"Hell yes!" Terrence exclaimed, smiling. Finally, a group of friends on whom he could rely on and relate to! And it was only his first day in this sorry excuse for a town…! He couldn't have been happier at that precise moment, not even with his father there to congratulate him.

Rick raised his glass of water. "Very well!" he exclaimed. "Group, let us propose a toast to our newest member—uh—" He looked down at the raven-haired teen. "What did you say your name was, again?"

"Terrence," Terrence replied. "Terrence Kraigen."

"…To our newest member, Terrence Kraigen!" He lowered the glass and drank, then wiped the excess water from his lips with the back of his jacket. "So, gang, what are our plans for tonight?"

"Well, I was thinking that we could go see a movie—" Rodney began, but Corey cut him off.

"A movie? Are you crazy?" He turned his head toward the others. "Listen up, gang, and listen good. I just heard through the grapevine of rock that the band 'ReAnimation' is playing live near the lake tonight!"

Theo almost choked on her water. "'ReAnimation'?" she repeated, almost unable to believe what had come from her friend's lips. "Are you talking about _the_ 'ReAnimation'?"

"Ha-yell yeah!" Corey exclaimed. "They're playin' live as soon as dusk hits. Can you _believe_ that? One of the hottest rock bands of the decade comin' to play in _Lunar Lake_, of all towns!"

"It's almost too good to be true!" Theo exclaimed, clasping her hands together merrily. "_Finally_, I'll get a good chance to meet the lead singer, Roscoe Parvarti!" She squealed in delight. "Ooh, he's so damn HOT!"

"What about you, Terrence?" Rodney asked him. "Are you a 'ReAnimation' fan?"

Terrence grinned. "I only own all their CDs!" he said excitedly. He looked at the others. "I think we should go. Like Corey said, it's a _totally _awesome opportunity."

Rick smiled. "So it's settled, then!" he proclaimed. "As soon as dusk hits, we're going to that concert!" He looked up in time to see the waitress standing there, clipboard in hand, pencil in other. "Oh…! Um, we'd just like some hamburgers…rare, please…and, maybe a couple of milkshakes. Gotta love those milkshakes…"

* * *

"Rick, you can't be serious 'bout this foo'!" Corey exclaimed as they left the diner; darkness was rising, and the moon was beginning to appear in the night sky, perfectly round. "I mean, how are we gonna get a chance to become acquainted? He'll suspect something soon as we transform!"

"Corey, I already _told_ you, I have the _entire_ situation under control," Rick replied, smiling. He handed the African-American a syringe, filled with a purple-colored liquid. "Just inject this into your system and into all the other systems of the team. That way, you won't transform."

"But Rick, you know as well as I do that—"

"Look, I _know_ what the side-effects are, but remember that we're going to a _rock concert_." He turned his head back toward the sky. "_Everyone_ there will be acting strange. Everyone always does."

With this remark, he rolled up his sleeve and exposed the tender under-surface of his elbow. "Okay, Corey, hit me. Hit me before the others come out."


	4. Once Bitten

**1672.**

After thoroughly washing his shirt out in the creek near the woods, Richard Graves quickly wrung the excess water out of it, slipped it back on, and bounded back down the hill into the town. His firm footing kept him from slipping as he rushed through the town, finally approaching the town hall. Making sure that everything was in its proper place, he heaved a deep breath in through his lungs and entered the building.

The Governor of this colony was currently seated at his desk, writing out a long manuscript for the town officials to carry out in the near future. Richard looked around the room before coming in—no one in sight; no one except him and the Governor. He smiled evilly.

Perfect.

Clearing his throat, he announced his presence. "Um…Mr. Governor, my liege?"

The Governor looked up from his paperwork, slightly startled, then immediately came to his senses. He was a round man, with a balding head, hair as white as snow and a thick, bushy mustache. He straightened the spectacles perched on the tip of his nose. "Yes?" he asked, his voice deep and official. "How may I help you, young man?"

"My name is Richard Graves, Sir," the young man replied, stepping into the room timidly. "I have recently come over on the ship _Jonah_ and—"

"Ah, an immigrant!" The Governor rose from his seat and gestured Richard toward him. "Come, come, my boy, have a seat!" He sat back down in his chair. "I am ascertaining that you have come to fill our your legal documents, have you not?"

Richard nodded. "Indeed, Sir," he replied; his evil smile then returned as he slowly arose from his seat. "And I also come asking you a favor. Asking you…an _opportunity_."

The Governor laughed heartily. "Ho, ho! My dear boy, you have not yet been in this town a day and you're _already_ demanding me offers? You apparently do not know how the government system _works_ around these parts, young man."

"And you do not know how _I_ work." Richard's eyes narrowed, their icy-blue color seeming to freeze the Governor where he sat. "I am making you an offer that cannot be refused. And I will _not_ take 'no' for an answer. You are lucky that you are even _worthy_ in the first place to become one of mine."

"This is _intolerable_!" The Governor rose in his seat, his face reddening in anger. "Who are _you_ to give me orders? And what do you mean by becoming 'one of yours'?"

Richard crawled atop the desk on all fours; his eyes blinked, taking on a bright blue-ish glow. He stared directly into the Governor's eyes as he hissed, in a throaty voice: "You'll find out soon enough, Sir. Soon enough."

And with that, he opened his mouth, exposing rows upon rows of razor-sharp fangs, and prepared to plunge them down into the petrified Governor's neck…

* * *

**THE PACK**

**By Grand High Idol**

**III.**

"Wow," Bloo laughed as both boys climbed out of the lake, Mac wiping his wet and sandy hair with a beach-towel. "That was fun."

"Not as fun as going swimming back home, but it's still kinda fun nonetheless." Mac smiled at his best friend. "You know, Bloo, I have to admit that I'm glad you came along. This place would be really lonely without you."

Bloo's smile brightened. "Do you really mean that?"

"Really." Mac smiled in return.

"_Really_ really?"

"Yes, _really_ really." Mac looked toward the west side of town, where a bunch of lights were flickering on and off. "Huh…I wonder what's going on over there that's so important."

"I heard some kid on the beach say that there was something going on over there tonight," Bloo responded, swiping Mac's towel in order to dry himself off. "Some kind of popular rock concert or something. All the rage with the teens…or whatever."

"Speaking of teens…" Mac swiped the towel back from Bloo and wrapped it around his shoulders, still staring out at the flickering lights. "Where'd Terrence get to? Mom said to us that we should both be back before dark."

"I'll bet the idiot's already home," Bloo replied, shrugging carelessly. "At least you've got me, but that lunkhead's got no one." He smiled callously. "I guess it serves him right for all the times he's picked on you, Mac."

Mac's smile faded. "Bloo, that's being a little too harsh, don't you think?" he asked. "The only reason Terrence is mad at me is because I _created_ you to begin with." He stopped to think for a moment. "At least, I _think_ that was the cause. Now I'm not so sure." He sighed and placed a hand on his best friend's shoulder. "Ever since Mom made me get rid of you, things have been so…well…confusing…"

Bloo placed a blobby hand on Mac's. "Yeah, I know," he replied, smiling weakly. "But things worked out in the end, didn't they? I mean, if it weren't for her, we'd never have met Wilt, Frankie, Ed, and all of our other new friends."

Mac returned the smile. "Yeah. I guess good things _can_ come out of bad, can't they?"

Bloo nodded. "And no matter what happens, you'll always be my best friend ever. Nothing could ever change that."

Mac sniffed a little, then reached out to hug his best friend—only to be abruptly and rather rudely pushed away. "Whoa! Okay, okay, I meant what I said, Mac, but that's getting _waaaaaayyyy_ too close." He dusted himself off, then looked toward the cabin. "Wow…that really _was_ a short walk."

Mac sighed, then shook his head and looked up toward the cabin along with Bloo. "Yeah…I guess time flies when you're having fun," he sighed. He began to head up toward the cabin steps. "Come on, Bloo, we've got to get you inside."

"But how?" Bloo asked. "Remember, I'm not exactly an _invisible_ imaginary friend, you know!"

"I know," he exclaimed. "I'll think of something, just—quick—" He grabbed Bloo and, within a matter of seconds, had draped the blob-shaped imaginary friend over his shoulders. Steadying himself, he continued: "Okay, now just close your eyes and _don't breathe at all_. With luck, Mom will think that you're my beach towel or something."

"That, without a doubt, has to be the _dumbest idea_ I've ever—" Bloo began to protest, but Mac quickly slapped his hand over his imaginary friend's mouth—and just in time, too; Mac's mother had appeared at the edge of the porch and was looking for her son; when she spotted him, she quickly ran toward him.

"Mac, sweetie!" she exclaimed, giving him a quick hug before persuading to look him over. "Oh, are you all right? I told you the consequences of going out after dark! Nothing attacked you? Nothing bit you or scratched you?"

Mac laughed and tried to pry out of her grasp. "Mom, I'm just fine, thanks," he replied. "Now, please, Mom, let me inside. It's cold and you're squishing my beach towel."

"Oh…your beach towel." Mac's mother immediately ended the hug, then straightened herself up. She eyed the little boy suspiciously. "That's funny…I could have been positive that I've seen a beach towel that color _somewhere_ before…."

"Nope, you've never seen anything like this!" Mac exclaimed and, without no further ado, and before his mother could ask another question, he ran into the house, slamming the door behind him. Mac's mother was left befuddled.

* * *

"Bloo, I want you to stay here until all further notice."

The two best friends were now standing inside Mac's bedroom, Bloo sitting on the bed, Mac standing in front of him. The little boy had barely made his escape past his mother, and Terrence…he hadn't seen him since that afternoon when their mother told him to go out and make some new friends. He scoffed at this remark; Terrence making friends other than Rusty made just about as much sense as Herriman dealing out fair chores. The little boy was trying his hardest to keep Bloo a secret; the little blob, on the other hand, had other plans.

"Sure, okay—" The blob stopped, then his eyes narrowed in utmost annoyance. "_What_? Hey, wait a minute!"

"I'm sorry, Bloo, but it's the only way I know how. Mom could come up and see you, and then I'll get in seriously big trouble."

"Mac—!" Bloo began, but his words were drowned out when Mac threw the blanket on top of him. Heaving a sigh of relief, he began to change into his regular clothing and, still pulling his shirt on, began to run out the door to the stairs.

"Just keep quiet!" the little boy called out to him from the landing. "I'll be back really soon!"

Bloo yanked the blanket off his head, then, annoyed, jumped down from the bed and began to examine the room. Finally, bored to death, he got back up on the bed and presumed his evening of lounging.

Mac, meanwhile, had run down the stairs and had entered the kitchen, where his mother was busy preparing for dinner. It had been a long time since Mac had seen her cook—and with such good grace, too! He was glad that she was happier—so, he guessed, everyone won. Except Terrence, which led him to ask:

"Mom?"

Mac's mother looked up from the stove, where a pot of was supposedly beef stew was simmering. "Yes, what is it, hon?"

Mac looked around the kitchen, then finally asked, "Where's Terrence? I haven't seen him all evening. Shouldn't he have been home by now?"

"Oh, Terrence?" She sighed. "I got a call on my cell about an hour ago—he said he was going to a rock concert with some friends. And after I strictly told him _not_ to go out after dark—" She growled. "He is going to be in _so_ much trouble when he gets home."

"Why do I have a feeling he's in trouble already?" Mac asked himself, looking down at the floor…

_

* * *

"The Dead walk among us_

_Rising from the grave slowly, they become us_

_There is no escape_

_From the dead of yesterday!_

_D-d-d-d-dead of yes-tar-day!"_

It had taken awhile, but Re-Animation had finally heated up, and the people in the audience—mostly people in their early to late teens—were beginning to really get wild. Amongst the crowd, Terrence, Rick, and the others were joining the "festivity", taking part in the known form of worship that was rock and roll.

"Man, these guys are off the hook!" Corey exclaimed over the roar of the music. He turned to the others. "See, I told you this would be fun! Never doubt it—Corey Alli is _always _right!"

"Amen, brotha!" Gary exclaimed; the two of them then slapped palms and howled.

Terrence was enjoying the concert as well, even though one thing seemed to bother him: Rodney was nowhere to be seen. In fact, he hadn't seen Rodney since he had caught him talking to Rick earlier, during the band warm-ups. There was no question; he had to know, and Rick seemed to be the only one who had any clue as to Rodney's whereabouts. Pushing his way through the crowd of excited teens, he approached Rick, who was dancing to the beat, his tongue hanging out to one side like a dog's. When Terrence tapped him on the shoulder, he ceased his dancing and immediately became serious.

"Yeah?" he asked, straightening his leather jacket. "What _is _it, Terr? This is my favorite song by these guys."

"Yeah, I know." Terrence rubbed the back of his head, then scanned the crowd one last time before asking: "Where the hell is Rodney? I thought he said he'd be here."

"Oh, Rodney?" Rick stopped for a moment to ponder, then nodded and pointed toward the woods. "He said he had to go use the facilities. Take a leak." He looked out toward the darkened forest, a concerned look creasing his brow. "Although…he _was_ supposed to be back by now…"

"So why isn't he? What the fuck is going on?" Terrence folded his arms. "It doesn't take twenty minutes to take a leak, man."

"You think I don't know that?" Rick asked crossly. "Look, if you're so concerned about Rodney, why don't _you_ go into the forest and check on him yourself?"

"No way!" Terrence replied crossly. "I'm not going out there! I wouldn't go out there if you _paid_ me!"

Rick shrugged his shoulders aimlessly. "Well, then, if you're going to be all chicken-shit about it, then I guess there's really no reason for us to even _care_, now, huh?"

Terrence was taken aback. "I am _not_ a chicken!" he exclaimed angrily. "I could go out into those damn woods anytime I friggin' wanted to!"

"Then go check on Rodney." Rick raised an eyebrow. "Go out there if you think you're so brave. Believe me, you won't miss a minute of the action."

"Rick—" Theo, who was standing in the crowd adjacent to them, began to protest, but Rick held up his hand, silencing her.

"Go on out," he told Terrence, giving Theo a gentle shove backward; she folded her arms and shot him an angry leer but did not bother to speak. "We'll fill you in on all the details once you and Rodney get back."

The raven-haired teen stood there for a moment, not sure of what exactly to do, then he finally threw his hands in the air. "Fine," he replied, the miffed tone still clearly recognizable in his voice. "I'll go out. But you owe me _big time_ after this."

"I'll keep that in mind." Rick pointed toward the direction of the woods. "Now go on, go get Rodney. It'll only take a few minutes, I promise."

"Whatever," Terrence muttered; he then turned around and began to push his way through the crowd, heading toward the direction of the pitch-black woods that loomed over the empty lot.

* * *

"Rodney?"

Terrence's call echoed through the emptiness of the woods as he continued to walk through the area, looking for any sign of life. The full moon shone down overhead, illuminating the area; not a creature was present, not even a single bird. The teen found this very peculiar; usually at night there would at least be one raccoon about…

He cupped his hands to his mouth and called again. "Hey, Rodney!"

No response. He sighed, and then kicked a stray twig angrily. "Oh, what the hell is the use?" he muttered to himself. "The guy's obviously not going to answer me—these woods are freaking huge!" He thought for a moment. "But then again, he only needed to take a leak…it would've been stupid for him to go _too_ far into the woods…"

He attempted one last call. "Rod—neeeeeee!"

Once again, there was no response; only the rustling of the leaves and the sound of his echo. Growling angrily, he called out, "Fine, man, if you want to be stupid, _stay_ out there. See if _I_ care." He turned around toward the direction of the lot. "Screw you. I'm going back."

He had only gone a few steps when he finally heard something other than his own footsteps—a low, threatening growling noise, and not one of human origin. A cold chill running down his spine like freezing water, he whipped around in hopes to locate the source of the noise.

He saw nothing. Biting his lower lip nervously, he rubbed his arm and slowly began to back up, keeping a close eye on the woodland in front of him. Unfortunately, this was proven to be a mistake, for no sooner had he begun to turn around then a monstrous creature lunged from the shadows, landing directly in front of him.

Terrence wanted to run, wanted to scream, but he was frozen in place. He backed up against a tree as the creature—an enormous wolf—approached him, head lowered, teeth bared menacingly. Its blue eyes flashed angrily, boring into his gray ones as it ran its tongue over its lips. Saliva dripped from its mouth like a leaky faucet, making dark impressions on the dirt below.

It took another step closer, still snarling; Terrence could now feel the creature's hot breath on his face. He whimpered and turned his head away, eyes closed, quaking like a leaf. For a select few moments he and the wolfen creature remained completely still, the area completely silent except for their breathing…

The wolf was the first to strike. Emitting a vicious barking sound, it lunged forward, knocking the teen away from the tree and to the ground, and opened its mouth, exposing rows of razor-sharp fangs—fangs that had a suspicious glint of silver on the upper row. Terrence was suspicious of this, but he didn't have much time to think, for no sooner had the wolf opened its mouth than it had plunged its teeth directly into the teen's back.

Terrence gave a scream of agony as the wolf began tearing at his flesh and clothing, clawing, biting, snarling, drooling…he quickly came to his senses and, despite the pain, scrambled out from under the monster's massive form and leapt to his feet. Without giving it any second thought, he began to run; he heard the creature's mighty howl of rage, followed by its pursuing footsteps as it charged after him. He gave a whine of fear and lowered his head, forcing himself to run faster—he had to if he ever hoped to lose the beast…

He would have succeeded, too, if it weren't for the fact that there was a small ravine not too far from the area where he had first encountered the beast and was too terrified to watch for anything. Yelping, he lost his balance and fell into the ravine, landing rather hard on his already flayed back. He gritted his teeth, several tears of pain escaping from his eyes, as the wolf approached the edge of the ravine, then leapt in after him.

"Oh God, NO!" Terrence screamed, frantically trying to claw his way out, but the wolf had pinned him down with a massive paw and was preparing to finish him off. Trembling, the teen shielded his eyes, preparing for the creature to deliver the coupe de gras—

_BLAM!_

A spray of hot blood splashed across his face; he opened his mouth in shock as the creature's eyes widened, and a weak cry escaped its lips. It swayed back and forth for a few seconds before finally collapsing to the ground; judging by the huge bullet-wound in its head, it was obviously dead. Gasping in a mixture of pain, fright, and relief, Terrence backed away from the dead animal as a lone figure appeared over the edge of the ravine, rifle in hand. Even though it was still quite dark, the teen could see the man's bright orange jacket: a hunter.

The man lowered his rifle and slid down into the ravine, then examined the cadaver before turning his attention on Terrence. His eyes widened in shock; he apparently hadn't noticed that the teen had been there to begin with.

"Oh my God!" he exclaimed; he then ran over to the teen's side and knelt down beside him. "Are you okay, kid?"

Terrence was still quaking as the man reached over to help him up; he gave a cry of pain as the man's hands touched his torn back. "Gah!…Yeah, yeah, I—I'm okay. Actually, you…you saved my life back there." He shakily got to his feet, then dusted himself off. "I…well…thanks."

The man frowned as he caught sight of Terrence's back, along with the blood that had come off on his hand in his effort to help the teen up. "Are you positive that you're okay?" he asked, concerned. "You look pretty torn up back there. Maybe I should call the local hospital or something—"

"No!" Terrence blurted out, he then clapped his hand to his mouth before calmly continuing, "Look, I shouldn't have been out here in the first place. I was supposed to be at the Re-Animation concert near the empty lot…I was looking for a friend, is all. A tall guy with braces and dark brown hair. You…you haven't seen him around, have you?"

The man shook his head. "I'm afraid not," he replied, he then abruptly changed the subject. "Look, whether you like it or not, you need medical attention. If you don't want me to help, at least let me take you home." He began to climb out of the ravine, Terrence following behind. "Now, kid, where is it that you live?"

"The outskirts," the teen replied, heaving himself out of the ravine. "About a five-minute walk from the soda fountain. But…I don't exactly think that I can…"

"It's okay." The man immediately knew what he was getting at. "My truck isn't too far from here—I parked it over near one of the woodland paths. I can take you home in that, if that's okay with you."

"It's fine." Terrence followed the man, trying his best to ignore the pain that was shooting through his every nerve with each step he took. Damn wolves…

* * *

Mac and his mother were right in the middle of dinner when there was a knock on the door. Mac attempted to go up and get it, but his mother approached the door first. Gesturing Mac to go back to the dinner table, she opened the door.

The hunter and Terrence both stood on the steps, Terrence wrapped in a fleece throw blanket and shivering in fright, the hunter standing next to him, hands behind his back. Needless to say, the boys' mother didn't exactly remain calm over the situation.

"Oh, dear God!" she exclaimed, reaching out to pull her elder son into the house. She looked up toward the man. "What on Earth happened to him? Is he all right?"

The man shook his head. "'Fraid not, ma'am—he was attacked by a wild animal out in the woods a little while earlier. A wolf. Damn biggest wolf I've ever seen in my life, too." He sighed. "The damage isn't serious—I looked him over before we got into the truck—but his back's torn up pretty badly. You might want to treat him before his wounds get infected."

"I'll do that." She nodded her head. "And…thank you so much for bringing him back. It was a very kind gesture."

"No problem." The man nodded, then turned around. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a wolf cadaver to pick up in the woods. Hope your son turns out okay."

He then descended down the stairs and got into his truck. As he drove off, the boys' mother turned Terrence to face her, a cross expression on her face.

"Terrence Kraigen!" she snapped angrily. "I specifically told both you _and_ Mac not to go out after dark! Yet you strictly disobeyed my orders, and now look where it's gotten you!" She sighed and shook her head. "Oh, Terrence…why can't you be more well-behaved like your brother is?"

Terrence was struck by these words, but did not show it. Instead, he merely glared at her and, throwing the fleece blanket off, began to ascend up the stairs to the second story. The boys' mother watched him as he departed, then sighed and placed a hand to her temples, shaking her head.

"I know that he didn't want to come here, but…" She sighed. "Oh, what am I going to do with him? Ever since his father died he's been acting like this…"

She then left in the direction of the living room—unaware that Mac, who had been hiding behind the wall that separated the kitchen from the front hall, had heard everything. Biting his lower lip nervously, he quickly rushed upstairs after his brother.


	5. Traces of Instinct

**THE PACK**

**By Grand High Idol**

**IV.**

"…You're_ joking_."

"I'm dead serious, Bloo." Mac flopped down on his bed, looking up at the ceiling for awhile, before turning his attention back to his best friend, who lay on the bed beside him. Heaving a deep breath, he continued. "Terrence was attacked by a wild animal out in the woods. And then, to make matters worse, Mom yells at him and makes a comparison to _me_, so now he's probably just as angry with _me_ as he is with Mom." He groaned and covered his eyes. "Just great. Wedgie City, here I come."

"Man, that oaf just doesn't know _when_ to quit, does he?" Bloo replied, crossing his arms; Mac sighed and pulled his pillow over his head. "Look, Mac, if I were you I wouldn't put up with this crap. I'd go into his room and give him the punishment he so richly deserves."

"No, Bloo," Mac muffled through the pillow. He sat up and threw the item off of his head, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "I need to deal with this in a civilized manner, and if that means confronting Terrence head on…" He swallowed nervously. "Well…so be it."

Bloo reached out an arm, attempting to stop him, but it was then he realized that Mac's mind was made up. Instead, he demanded, "Let me come with you."

Mac gently slapped his arm away. "No, Bloo." He heaved a deep breath and jumped down from the bed. "This is something I have to deal with myself. Besides, could you _imagine_ the reaction he'd have if he saw that _you_ were with me?"

"Good point." Bloo flopped back down on the bed. "I don't really approve of it, but, good point." He rolled his eyes. "The lunkhead would probably squeal, anyway."

Mac shot a suggestive glance at his imaginary friend, but did not say anything more. Heaving in a deep breath, he stepped over the threshold of his bedroom and began to walk down the hallway to where Terrence's supposedly was.

Mac found Terrence in his room, stretched out on the bed and listening to a _Metallica_ CD. He was cringing a little from the pain in his back, but other than that he appeared indifferent to what had just happened earlier. Peeking over the threshold, and deciding that it would be best to leave him alone until the thing passed over—especially what his mom had said earlier—he slowly departed from the room.

"He'll be better in the morning," the little boy told himself, as he slowly trudged back to the room where he and Bloo were sleeping. "He has to."

As Mac walked off, Terrence continued to remain sprawled out on the bed, listening to the metal guitars pound through his head. Heaving a deep sigh, he arched his back slightly, and then turned over onto his stomach, resting his head atop his folded arms, continuing to hear the words that were being spoken to him through song, as he slowly drifted off:

"_Come crawling faster…_

_Obey your Master…_

_Your life burns faster_

_Obey your Master…_

_Master_…"

…

Master…

_A strong sensation of cold suddenly overtook him. Trembling, he wrapped his arms around himself, finding that he was clad only in his jeans—no shirt, no overjacket, no shoes. His breath left his nose and mouth in visible clouds of steam, the snow underneath his feet so cold, so unbearably cold…_

**We are the one.**

_A strong heat suddenly overtook his body—not a feverish heat, but a strong heat, as if a fire had just been rekindled inside him. He reared his head up to face the scene that lay in front of him, a peaceful woodland; trees spread out as far as the eye could see, the snow falling in light, fluffy flakes, the sky a pale gray hue. A long howl echoed in the distance as he stood in the middle of the clearing, letting the flakes fall upon his face, the heat from his body melting them instantly._

**We are the only.**

_From out of the clearing came a group of wolves, some black, some gray, some red—but all of them large, almost the height of a man, and much more muscular than the average wolf would seem. Their eyes held a look of calm, of welcoming. Slowly, he began to tread forward, the hard snow crunching under him, as he approached the wolf in the center—a bright red one, streaks of orange gracing its fur. It looked at him with its gentle green eyes, and lowered its head soundly._

**We have been since the beginning of time, since Man walked the Earth**

_He approached the orange-red creature and slowly reached up his hand, running his fingers through the creature's soft, snow-covered fur before looking directly into its eyes. Its soft nose nuzzled against his neck softly, its green eyes filled with lust. Gently, it placed a large paw on his shoulder._

**We do not mean harm, but harm will only come out of our endless Desires. Love…**

_The other wolves formed a circle around the two, sitting down and waiting patiently, their blue eyes blazing, their ears pricked to attention. He and the red wolf stood in the center, gazing into each others' eyes, and all of a sudden he could feel a sudden attraction. But this wolf was not Rusty, and could never be him; nonetheless, he reached a hand toward the wolf anyway, their faces dangerously close to one another…_

**Lust…**

_Suddenly the wolf bore a human body, though its head still remained animal. A scientific impossibility, but he didn't seem to notice. Bringing their faces close, his arms wrapped around the creature's neck, the creature's paws on his shoulders, they brought their lips together and kissed openly, passionately, fiercely…he felt blood trickle down his chin as the wolf bit his tongue, but he didn't care._

**…Pain.**

_Blood began dribbling from both their mouths now, as if they were ripping each others' tongues to shreds rather than playfully nipping them. The wolf made a low groaning noise, one of pleasure, and it drew him closer_.

**We will last forever.**

_Finally, they broke apart, blood trickling down from both of their chins and dripping onto the snow, staining it red. The other wolves in the circle tilted their heads upward and gave a long, low howl, as if he had completed some sort of test, an initiation of sorts. But how could that be true?_

_He lowered himself to all fours, hands now braced against the cold snow. The red wolf lowered down next to him, and looked at him, right in the eyes again…and was that a playful smile on its face? He couldn't tell, it was so snowy, and he felt so faint, so woozy…_

**For we are the Pack.**

_The wolves began to run, together, heading deeper into the forest. He followed them, feeling the cold wind against his face, and for the first time in years…_

_…He was happy._

* * *

"Wha?...OW!"

Terrence was jolted awake from his slumber, in such a way that he fell off of the bed, landing hard on his back. The cuts and scratches from earlier were still new and flared up, prolonging the pain and making it even worse for him. He grimaced, his fingers curling, a cold sweat dripping down his face, and the music of "_Leper Messiah_" blazing in his ears. Growling, he yanked off the headphones.

"Son of a _bitch_!" he cursed, then slowly got to his feet, rubbing his sore back. He could feel the gouges from where the beast had attacked him, that damn animal…he didn't know what had provoked it, but he was glad that it was dead. Now if only the same thing could happen to his mother and his stupid little brother…

Shaking his head, Terrence took the time to remember the things he had seen and experienced in his dream…and suddenly felt immensely hot. Not just normally hot, being that it was summer, but hot on the inside as well as on the outside. Not really thinking about it, he hung his tongue out to one side, panting like a dog, tugging at his shirt collar as he looked out the window; peculiar that even though it was nighttime, the temperatures had risen so high. He shook his head.

Heaving a sigh of frustration, he stood up, letting his overjacket slip off of his shoulders and fall to the floor. The heat inside of him grew, and he moaned and removed his black T-shirt, as well.

_The red wolf_

He didn't know what exactly was going on, but he was feeling wonderful. Flopping down on his back into the bed, his hands traveled down to his jeans, and in an instant he had unbuttoned them, revealing his boxers.

_Openly, passionately, fiercely_

Terrence shimmied the boxers down just a bit, then drew his hand down into his crotch area, feeling, exploring. His back arched and he gave a sensual moan of pleasure as he felt this area; he didn't even know why he was doing it, but it felt _just great_…!

_Love, lust, pain_

Eventually the pleasure inside of him built up, and, lifting his head, he let out a loud howl of pleasure—not at all remotely human; an animal howl, a wolf-like howl that rattled the bones of the empty, quiet nighttime town.

Not even the dogs answered.

* * *

"No, Bloo!"

"But Maaaaaaacccc—"

"_No_, Bloo!" The little boy's words were firm as he pulled on his T-shirt. "For the last time, you _cannot_ come down to breakfast with me! Mom's going to be down there and if I haven't said it already, if she sees you, she'll freak!"

"But Maaaaac, I'm hunnnngrrrrrryyy!" Bloo whined, holding his stomach as an added visual. Mac heaved a sigh of frustration.

"Look," he said, folding his arms, "I'll bring you something back when I'm done eating, okay? Then we can go start the day together. How does that sound?"

Bloo was silent for a moment, then finally shrugged as a response. "Eh, beats nothing."

Mac sighed and rolled his eyes, then started out the door and down toward the steps. He was halfway when something rushed past him, and he gave a cry of surprise, almost stumbling backward (but catching himself on the balcony ledge just in time). Narrowing his eyes, he looked over to see Terrence…but surprisingly, Terrence did not appear to be in a bad mood. In fact, he was smiling playfully as he spoke:

"Race ya, bro!"

Mac blinked in confusion, but Terrence had already accepted his unsaid answer as a "yes" and was bounding for the stairs. "Last one down kisses horse-ass!"

"Uh…" Was all the little boy could manage to get out of his mouth, but he decided to go along with whatever game his older sibling was playing. Removing himself from the balcony ledge, he began to race for the stairs alongside Terrence—who raged ahead of him as easily as if he had been a tortoise. Mac could only watch in amazement as his older brother cleared the steps in one bound, landing gracefully feet-first, then turning and running for the kitchen.

"Guess I kiss…oh, whatever," Mac murmured to himself as he started down the steps. Although he couldn't help but wonder. "I've never seen Terrence so active before…or so playful. It's like he's an entirely different person this morning."

Coming down the last step, he turned and headed for the kitchen. Terrence was already in there (naturally) going through the refrigerator, while his mother was at the stove, making scrambled eggs by the smell of it. Licking his lips, the little boy pushed a chair over to the table and hopped up, seating himself comfortably.

"Wow, Mom, those eggs smell really good," he commented, sniffing the air. "Be sure to make mine with extra butter!"

"Thank you, honey." The boys' mother removed the frying pan from the stove and wiped her hands off on the apron she was wearing. "It's so wonderful to finally cook meals for a change. I'm so glad that we took this vacation, despite the…well, _minor_ technicalities that have occurred." She drew her gaze over toward Terrence. "Terrence, we still have to have those injuries looked at today. I don't want them to become infected."

"Whatever." Terrence was still focused on digging through the fridge, muttering to himself. "Gross…gross…ugh, gross…here we are." He slammed the fridge door shut, a package of bacon—_raw_ bacon—in one hand…and stuffing it into his mouth like a ravenous animal. Mac's mouth opened slightly in disgust, while his mother's reaction was more…amplified.

"_Terrence Kraigen_!" she shrieked; Terrence's head rose like a rabbit interrupted from its meal. She snatched the package away from him. "Take that out of your mouth at once! You're going to get sicker than you already _are_!"

Terrence swallowed what was left of the meat and snarled at her, through clenched teeth—an almost animal-like growl, Mac thought to himself. He saw his older sibling narrow his eyes at their mother, fists clenched.

"And what is _that_ supposed to mean?" he challenged, arching his back.

The boys' mother seemed taken aback. "Terrence, honey, I didn't mean it like that. What I meant was—"

"I don't care!" The raven-haired boy approached the screen door that led out to the woods and thrust it open, turning his head to look at them. "I don't need your petty lectures and I don't need your friggin' doctor. What I _need_ is to be _away_ from YOU!"

"Terrence—" Their mother began, but was interrupted by the teen slamming the door—harder than usual. The screen inside the frame rattled violently, and several glasses fell from a nearby shelf, landing with muffled crashes into the sink. Mac paused from eating to look at his mother, who now had her fists clenched; she then sighed and reached back to remove her apron.

"That boy is impossible sometimes," she huffed to herself. "Mac, honey, why don't you go out and play? It's a nice day, and I need some time alone."

Mac nodded, then took another bite of his eggs. "Okay, Mom." He looked down at his plate, then over at the package of bacon at the table. Suddenly not very hungry, he picked up his plate and jumped down from the chair. "Mom, can I take these eggs up to my room? I'll finish them later."

"Fine, fine, just _go_." Mac walked out of the kitchen in time to see his mother bent over the sink, her head in one hand.

* * *

Terrence sat alone on a barstool inside the diner, his head in one hand as he thought. Several times the waitress had bustled up and asked him if he had wanted anything, and, hungry as he was, he had declined the offer. All he really wanted to do now was sulk in his own misery, away from his mother, away from his little brother…

Away from that cabin where memories of him and his father lurked around every corner.

Sighing, he buried his head in his arms, waiting for the annoying twit to come around again and offer him a drink or whatever else was on the "breakfast special" today. Eventually she did come around again, and he raised his head up, but this time, instead of declining the offer, another voice spoke up from behind him:

"Yeah, we'll take two shakes, please. Extra-thick."

The waitress smiled, showing off a thick coat of lip-gloss that seemed to shimmer even in the dim lights of the diner. "Right away," she replied, scurrying off to the kitchen. Confused, Terrence raised his head and swung his stool around.

"Oh, Gary. Hi." His melancholy gaze returned, and he swung back around, placing his head in one hand. Gary took up a seat next to him and then reached out to touch the raven-haired teen's free hand.

"Hey, Terr, what's going on?" he asked. "You're not yourself today. Didn't you enjoy the concert?"

"Did I enjoy the concert." Terrence let out a mirthless chuckle before swinging to face Gary. "_Did I enjoy the concert_?! I was fucking _attacked_ by a fucking _wild animal_ out there! And you're asking me if I _enjoyed the fucking concert_?!"

Gary was taken aback. "Hey, hey, hey, calm down," he exclaimed, holding up his hands in a defensive gesture. "I was just asking you what was wrong, that's all." He sighed and brushed a lock of red hair from his face. "I'm guessing that you already _told_ me what was wrong, huh?"

Terrence sighed. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? It's just that—well, my mom is being hard on me again, and I'm still not used to being up here at this place. She didn't even seem to _care_ when I was attacked. All she said was that I should've been home before dark or it never would've happened, why can't you be more like your brother, blah blah blah." He propped his elbows on the table. "It's days like this that I wish Dad were still alive. _He_ wouldn't have said anything like that."

"Well, I…" Gary stopped, then heaved a deep breath before continuing. "Listen, I know that you're not feeling at your best right now, but me and the guys were planning on going down to the old baseball diamond to watch the kids play, maybe have some fun ourselves. I was hoping that…y'know, you could join us." He blushed a little, thanking God that Terrence couldn't see it under the dim lights. "We would _really_ like it if you'd come with us." His eyes locked on Terrence's, and he gently took one of the teen's hands in his. "_Really_."

Terrence couldn't help but blush a little in return, and he finally managed a weak smile. "I guess I could go," he replied. "I mean, it's not like I have anything better to do with my time today…"

"Great." Gary smiled, then leaned over the counter and cupped one hand around his mouth. "Yo, waitress! Are you making shakes back there, or are you making love? Cause I'm really fucking _thirsty_ here!"

* * *

"I cannot _believe_ that you talked me into this," Bloo muttered as he and Mac walked onto the field. "Playing baseball with the other kids? What gave you _this_ great idea?"

"Aw, c'mon, Bloo, it'll be fun," Mac replied optimistically, throwing up the baseball he had brought with him to catch it in his glove. "We can't spend the entire summer alone. Who knows, maybe some of the kids here have imaginary friends, too."

Bloo eyed Mac skeptically, then squinted out toward the field, which was already crowded with a group of kids around Mac's age—but nothing more. He turned to look back at his best friend. "Really? 'Cause I certainly don't _see_ any imaginaries out there."

Mac sighed. "Then just try to enjoy the game, okay? No one likes a poor sport, you know."

Bloo opened his mouth to say something, but shook his head and closed it instead, keeping his gaze dead ahead at the field, which grew ever closer. The two friends could now see several kids standing in a circle around one big kid—who appeared to be filling in for coaching duty. He was giving orders left and right, assigning positions, but stopped all activity when the two finally approached the circle. The other children, confused by the sudden halt of their coach's speech, turned their heads to look at the two. Mac smiled and waved.

"Hi!" he proclaimed. "My name is Mac, and this is my friend Bloo." He gestured toward the blob, who muttered a mumbled "hi" in response before folding his arms over his chest. "We were wondering if we could join in on your game today."

Several of the kids snickered, and the leader raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Is that…_thing_ you have with you an imaginary friend?"

Mac frowned. "Yes, he's my best friend, too. Why?"

There was more snickering, and the leader finally couldn't help chortling himself. "Dude, no one plays with imaginary friends anymore," he said. "Only _little babies_ do." He stepped forward and looked the little boy directly in the eyes. "Are _you_ a little baby, then?"

Mac's face flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and anger, but he did not want to give in to the kid's obvious pleasure in seeing him squirm. "Well, if Bloo's still here, I guess I am, then, aren't I?"

There were several more chuckles from the crowd, then the leader, still snickering, finally stood back up. "Okay, _little baby_," he said, making an intentional emphasis on those last biting words, "You can join our game. But _you_ have to play left field."

Mac sighed. "Fair enough," he stated. "Just tell me which team I'm on and I'll do my best." He then looked toward Bloo, who appeared to be waiting patiently for a response. "Oh!" Mac looked back toward the bully of a coach. "What about Bloo? What's his job?"

"Well, that's the thing," the leader replied, trying in vain to surpass a giggle. "Our lead pitcher is just a tad too short for some of our batters. We need a pitcher's mound…"

* * *

"_There_ you are!" Paul exclaimed as Gary and Terrence finally arrived near the bleachers. "You're just in time! The game's about to begin." He focused his attention back on the little playing field in front of them.

Terrence's eyes trailed to the playing field, as well. It was nice, very professional-looking, even—it even had its own catcher's fence and benches. The kids were just getting into position, ready for the first unofficial inning—but what was that blue thing where the pitcher's mound should have been? One of those artificial rubber boosters, maybe? The lead pitcher _was_ pretty short…

"Terrence!" Gary called, snapping him out of his reverie. The teen turned around in time to see Gary sitting on the topmost seat of the bleachers, beckoning him to come up. "Come on! The view is great from up here!"

Rolling his eyes, Terrence approached the bleachers, then climbed over the others to the topmost seat, where Gary was waiting. Smiling, the redhead put an arm around his shoulder in a quick hug before returning his attention to the playing field. "Little kids playing baseball," he said, probably thinking out loud. "Brings back a lot of memories, doesn't it?"

Terrence didn't answer, but nodded in response and, crossing his legs, eyed the field below. The lead kid—who was around his age, he assumed, but nowhere near the puberty-mess _he_ had become—was shouting orders; he then walked around the batter and stood behind the catcher, eyeing the scene in front of him with utmost concentration.

"Okay!" he called, then waved, a signal for the game to begin. The pitcher stepped atop the blue mound—which almost seemed to shudder in protest—then wound up and threw the first pitch. The batter obviously had skill; before anyone knew what was going on the ball was careening toward left field, and the batter was running around the bases like a gazelle. The people on the other team were shouting out to left field, obviously miffed with whoever their left fielder was, the poor sap:

"Pick up the ball, you doofus!"

"Catch it! _Catch it_!"

"Don't just _stand there_ like an idiot! Bring it back _here_!"

The child out in left field—who was so far away Terrence couldn't make out his features—finally found the ball in the waves of tall summer grass and was now running back toward the diamond, against the protests and shrieks of the other kids for him to just throw it to the third baseman before the batter made a clear home-stretch.

"Throw it! Throw it! Don't bring it here! _Throw it_, you _ass_!"

"Shit, those kids are mean," Theo finally proclaimed. She folded her arms, her eyes narrowing in disgust. "As if the poor kid really has a _choice_."

"Those are kids for ya," Rick replied, grinning almost deviously. "Always picking on the odd one out."

"Safe!" The catcher finally yelled, holding up both hands. "The score is now one to nothing, next batter up!"

"You idiot!" The teens heard one of the kids shout to the left fielder, whom had now come into a close-enough view to where they could make out his features. This set off something in Terrence, who was now climbing down the bleachers, a look of utmost anger set in his features. "You were _this close_ to the third baseman! Why didn't you just _throw_ the stupid ball?!"

"I—I'm sorry," Mac replied, hanging his head shamefully. "I tried, I really did, but the grass is so tall out there—"

"Who cares how tall the freakin' grass is!" the kid shouted in his face. "You had a clear chance and you totally blew it! Mark should've never agreed to have you play with us! You're one of the _worst_ players we've _ever_ had!"

Mac flushed angrily, his eyes closing tightly to keep back the tears, until a familiar voice cut through the kid's angry words like a dagger:

"It wasn't his fault, you little twit."

"Huh?" The kid looked up in time to see a teenager, around Mark's age with raven hair, standing about five feet away from them, eyes narrowed. Angrily, she began to spit back: "What did you just say to me?"

"I said, it wasn't his fault, you little _twit_." The teen's eyes narrowed further, and his posture seemed to change, a look that was telling whomever thought otherwise to bring it on. The girl's face flushed angrily, and she turned back to face Mac's direction, her face red.

"Brought some backup, you little baby?" she spat in his face. "Well, I don't care. In fact, let's see what your stupid friend thinks of _this_!"

Before Mac could say anything more he was shoved backward, the breath leaving his lungs as he hit the dust—hard. At that exact moment—from the moment the girl's hands shot out to push his little brother into the dust—something sparked in Terrence, something he could not explain, and with a furious roar of anger he shot forward, his focus fixated on nothing but the little bitch who had done his brother harm.

"Terrence!" he heard Gary calling from the bleachers. "Terrence, don't do it, man! Don't do it!"

But Gary's words were drowned out by the roar that was now in the teen's ears, and he drew ever closer, finally grabbing the screaming girl by both shoulders and tackling her to the ground. He kept her pinned, his eyes wild, his teeth bared, his fingernails digging deeply into her flesh…

He could smell her fear. He could hear it.

He could almost taste it.

Setting everything in the outside into the back of his mind, he opened his mouth and prepared to sink his teeth into her flesh…


End file.
